Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

December 29th, Texas’ 13th birthday. He could hear the swell of people from his church and school. He was ready, he was sure of it. This is what he was born for— quite literally.

This was the last time Texas would see his family, or anyone, at least as himself. Texas was a tithe, the last child of a family, born to be unwound, to give back to the earth.

His lips curled into a soft smile as he exited down the stairs, the people below mostly cheered. He could see his parents, his mother was in the kitchen but she’d turned her attention to him. His father was socializing with the other kids' parents, he was dressed in cassock.

People were cheering for him; for his division. As each foot hit the stairs, reverberating on his shoe, he was being cheered. He was brave, he was loved, he was chosen to give back. The day could not be better.

He reached the bottom, and found himself socializing with a few peers. There were a few goodbyes from others, he found himself in a few more stiff hugs than he’d like to be in.

Time was moving around him slowly at this party, he almost wanted it to hurry up. He was suffocated by the people all around him treating him like this was the worst thing that could ever happen. He was treated as an actual unwind by some of these people; he was completely different. He was to give back to the world, god chose him for this.

Unwinds were a curse, rebellious and unloved. They needed to be saved from themselves, their soul was at unrest and needed to be divided— spread among the good people to balance them out. Being a tithe meant he was to experience a million life times all at once, networked from one person to the next. It was God's gift to him, for his soul to experience the flesh and life of so many people.

Eventually he found himself sitting around the table, this was lunch. That means one more dance before he goes to the Harvest Camp. There was a lump swallowing in his throat as everyone was toasting to him. The adults with their glasses full of wine and the children with their assortment of Soda and just plain water.

Everyone was praising him telling him how god spoke through him. This was the ultimate act of goodness. They were praising his parents as well for being so willing to give back.

He didn’t like that as much as when they were praising him. They weren’t giving anything up. They weren’t giving back. He was.

Everyone was going in a circle, eventually it landed on another kid. It was one of the people he knew from school. They’d very briefly met, but he found himself inviting her anyway. She had long black hair under a ushanka, she was around 17 years old, and she had scruffy dark hair with tattoos covering her face. They weren’t classless like what’d expect from an unwind, but rather a V tattooed on her forehead and two lines straight down her chin surrounded by small dots. Her toast felt fake, she was glancing at Texas’ parents coldly the entire time.

She eventually sat back down; the atmosphere seemed rough now, nobody seemed to call her out but you could feel her gaze in the air around them.

The rest of the meal went around rather calmly, if not slightly tense.

It seemed to end all too quick— next thing Texas knew music was playing and he was rising up from his chair. He was scanning the room for people to dance with, at this party basically anyone would. Mostly out of pity, but at least he got to dance.

He ended up dancing with a few girls, which felt remarkably empty. He assumed that was normal, maybe dancing with girls just wasn’t extreme enough to give him those butterflies everyone described.

As the dances went on and on, the women seemed to blur together. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was dancing with at times, this was the opposite of a last romantic encounter before he left, this was flat out boring.

The only thing that seemed to ground him was the girl who made the passive aggressive comment earlier offering her hand out. Maybe he was wrong and she was really behind this whole unwinding thing, she didn’t seem to pity him. Her gaze was cold like it was during her toast, now directed at him. Her dark eyes were chilling; he found an odd comfort in it.

He looked down at her hands, bands tattooed onto her palms, miniature triangles intertwined on them, switching from completely transparent to filled in black. He wondered if she’d done it herself.

He grabbed her hand; this dance was different from the others. She was rather tall, and she seemed to enjoy picking him up. She lifted him as if he was weightless. The feeling was mildly uncomfortable but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to stop. He still didn’t feel those butterflies but he did feel something.

Eventually that dance was over and the cake was cut. Everything felt too fast now, the crowd of people clearing away once they’d finished eating, the change into the tithing whites, his heart in his chest.

Texas would never admit this but he was scared. He found himself chewing on his bottom lip… this was possibly the last time he’d ever be able to do it. Nobody knew what happened at harvest camps. Did they take you apart immediately? He heard tithes got to choose when they were unwound, but was that really true? Would he sit and wait? Would it hurt? The uncertainty terrified him more than being unwound did.

“Can I take a walk first?” He asked his dad.

His dad seemed to pause, considering it, before looking down at the time.

“10 minutes,” his dad said.

Texas sighed and nodded, he could make that work. He stepped out of his house through the back exit, walking down the street. Mentally he was saying goodbye to everything. Maybe he’d be here again, maybe not.

He thought of where he wanted each part of him to go. He wanted his legs to go to a basketball player. He was rather tall and had a lot of height in them, that’d be helpful. Plus, he’d still be able to live in greatness.

His brain started to wonder what would really talk to him. Division wasn’t death, the entire point of it was that you stayed alive. He was sent here for a state he’d never understand until he was there. The priests at his church never fully explained what it was like to be divided, they just said it was the holiest state you could be in.

They must’ve been right, the way they spoke with such conviction. They knew what was right for him. Maybe nobody could know until they’d experienced it; that’s why God chose him. He deserved the holy experience nobody else could even describe— nobody could even process.

He’d be missed, but there was no need for it, he was saved. He was ready.
…
Right?

He saw the girl again, the one who’d picked him up. She walked up beside him, slightly slower than him to be barely behind him.

“Hey… Texas?” She said, it seemed more like she was asking than stating.

“Hi,” Texas said. He did not want to talk right now.

Her eyes slided to her side. She narrowed her eyes before getting a bit closer to Texas. “This might hurt,” she said.

“Wha—” next thing Texas knew he’d been bent at the hip over her shoulder.

“—T ARE YOU DOING?”

His questions turned into screams, disgruntled and improperly placed yelling. He didn’t make it to the limo where he was meant to go, his body started thrashing on her with a strenuous force. It seemed to be no use, so all he could do was scream at some point. His words became a jumbled mess covered in anxiety and adrenaline.

“Shut up,” she said, her voice between a harsh command and a mere whisper.

He didn’t shut up, if anything that just made him louder. He could feel the sigh exiting her from just the movement of her body alone, but he couldn’t hear it over his own voice.

He felt a small prick in his arm from something the girl had pulled out of her pocket with her spare hand. It was a gentle stab, not deep enough to draw blood

But he felt the world go dark and he knew exactly what he’d been stabbed with a tranq bullet. The type of bullet only used on AWOL unwinds. This only made his anger deeper towards the girl hauling him over.

He wanted to fight harder to be free, to get to the harvest camp— to do his duty to God. Yet, alas, it was hard to keep his eyes open, or to keep kicking and thrashing against her. Next thing he knew he was between this unpleasant limbo being aware and gone. Wherever you went whenever you weren’t exactly whole, but far from divided.
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“When my family's funds had run dry, we couldn’t possibly keep all of our children alive. Thanks to unwinding we were able to have any of our children make it to 18.”
Happy Harvest Camp
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Chapter Text

Alaska was running, she ran and ran until she was in the woods. Saving a tithe was absolutely ridiculous. The little fucker spent his entire life wanting to be killed, why should she stop him?

Yet, when she got an invite to that party, she couldn’t stop herself from attending. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting to save the thirteen year old boy with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes…that look in his eyes all tithes have. Maybe it was innocence, but it felt much deeper than just that.

Maybe it’s just the privilege. Families who can religiously sacrifice their kids are usually rich, it’s 1 out of 10 that you’re supposed to “give back”, and most families can’t afford 10 kids. A lot of times some of those 10 kids are storked too. Nobody is that fertile. Storked kids are almost always dropped off in rich neighborhoods. Their moms want to make sure they have a good life before they completely ditch.

Whatever it was, Alaska shouldn’t be focusing on it right now. Texas’s screaming did her no favors in this mission to save him from himself and whatever brainwashing his parents had instilled in him. They’d filled him with the bullshit idea of some “purpose”. What purpose was dying? She supposed that was the purpose of all lives in her eyes.

A few neighbors had come out because of his screaming and thrashing but she managed to run back into the woods before anybody could really process what was going on. She didn’t need another run in with a juvey-cop. In her eyes they were scum of the earth.

Only two types of people applied to be juvey-cops, she’d come to learn. Kids who got bullied who wanted to extort their powers over kids they saw as in the same vein as their tormentors and those very same tormentors desperately trying not to lose that peak— that power — they had when they were young.

Alaska wasn’t an unwind, nowhere near close. No Native American tribes partook in unwinding. NCAI refused to sign the unwind accord, a lot of them had become asylums for AWOLs. Of course, to enter, you had to be sponsored by someone on the Rez, and what stopped her from just sponsoring the others was the one AWOL per person rule her tribe had. They didn’t want to become overrun with kids from outside. Alaska hated that policy for the inconvenience it caused her, but she understood why it exists.

Unfortunately she couldn’t just sit in that Rez, knowing children were killed by the daily. Cause what? They refused to use better technology or because they wanted to keep their precious organs even in death. She couldn’t understand, if the tribes could find a way to not unwind, couldn’t those people? She’d always heard outsiders refer to other natives as “uncivilized slot-mongers”, but were they really the uncivilized people here?
They weren’t the ones sending their children off to death for getting bad grades.

As Alaska walked through the woods, she found a girl she was familiar with. Around 18 years old, her long black hair tucked back in a braid. She was wearing green, probably wanting for her brother. They did this, often getting lost in the woods.
Their meeting spot was right in the way of her hiding spot. She’d met both her and her brother a few times.
“Hey N. Kota,” she said to the girl. She waved at her, before her eyes shifted to the boy being hurled over her shoulder.

“Ope, isn’t that Texas? The Tithe from school?”

Alaska looked behind North Dakota. She hoped looking away could prevent her from seeing just how stupid she’d realized her idea was at that very moment. “Well, he’s not a tithe anymore.”

“Is that why you had to knock him out?” The other girl asked her with an eyebrow raise.

“He’ll be grateful when he comes to his senses. Besides, I picked him up while he was on some angsty walk.” She almost wanted to say teenage angst, but he was barely teenage.

“So you’re saying you have the skills to deprogram a tithe?”

Alaska did in fact, not have that skill, but now it was a challenge. More than just wanting to save a child’s life.

“We’ll see,” she said.

She realized she’d probably had the juvey-cops called on her. At least she had an opportunity to have someone help her with that. “Hey Northie?” She asked, which dragged the other girl's dark brown eyes away from the tithe hauled over her shoulder.

“What?” She asked.

“If I pay you 20 bucks, can you distract the juvies for me?” She asked.

“Uff Dah, Alaska, what did you do? ”

“Nothing! He just wouldn’t let me save his life in peace. I had to dart him!”

North Dakota sighed, but she held her hand out as if to take her money. Alaska used her spare hand to dig out a 20 dollar bill out of her pocket and put it in the expectant girls hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you!” She said, grabbing a rock from the ground. “Oh, and if you see the worse Dakota, tell them I’m busy, but I’ll be back soon.”

Alaska nodded, and started running again, as North Dakota ran the other way. She was very careful with every turn. She knew exactly where she was going, she’d been going that way every time she came home from school. She’d gotten a half day negotiation, where she’d leave after lunch time. A lot of schools got additional funding if they had a certain amount of “Chancefolk”, which was the new “legal” name for Native Americans. She didn’t like that name; it’d been changed when she
was two, so it wasn’t far enough away she had no clue what else they could be called.

She ran along the pattern of trees and dirt she’d been following every school day for the past year. She was careful to cover her footprints as she ran, kicking up dirt behind herself so they wouldn’t be traceable.

She eventually found herself back at the campground she’d left from. There wasn’t much there, just preparation for a fire as the sun was to set soon, and the various berries that’d been scavenged from nearby bushes and the animals that’d been hunted.

The others living there looked up at her, and then at her shoulder.

“Who is that? ” one of them, a brown haired boy in a tank top named Florida asked, pointing to Texas.

“That’s Texas, he’s a tithe,” another one said. That was Oklahoma, a barely 14 year old AWOL unwind. Alaska guessed they were probably in the same grade, and saw each other around school.

“Yeah, I ended up with an invite to his tithing party.” Alaska said dryly as she put him down.

“Well, he’s totally gonna run,” an AAC machine said for a boy in a wheelchair. That was California, he came with Oklahoma. They were siblings, and even if he couldn’t be unwound due to his disability he refused to leave his brother.

“I know. That’s why I brought him here. We’ve gotta find a way to stop him,” she said.

“We could tie him up!” Florida shouted, probably more excited than he should be. Florida at 15 enjoyed chaos more than he should. It was almost a problem for their group, but he had more skills than most of the others, living AWOL for much longer than anyone else had.

“We ain’t got rope,” Oklahoma said dryly. While that was true, Alaska could get some if needed. They may have nearly enough time until he woke up, the dose was only enough to knock him out for a few hours.

California spread his arms and motioned wide, his palms shut tight. Alaska had learnt that it meant “look at me” from Oklahoma; it was used when California didn’t want to type out an entire phrase into his machine.

“What’s up, Cal?” Oklahoma asked, and California pulled a decently large strap off from his chair.

California started typing on his AAC machine. “This was used to stop me from falling out of my chair when I’m in cars, could this work?” he asked.

“California! You’re a genius!” Florida said, grabbing the strap which had cuffs at the ends. He motioned for Alaska to hand him Texas, which she did.

“This is a horrible idea,” Oklahoma said. “Texas wanted this.”

“He was brainwashed,” Alaska said, once again finding herself overly defensive of her choices.

“What? You think you can undo that?” Oklahoma said, meeting her defense with accusation.

“Well. It doesn’t matter, he’s already here. Plus, he knows I took him, which means I won’t be able to go back to school and we may even have to move again if he snitches.”

Oklahoma sighed. “I guess. But can I also say—“

“—No!” Florida interrupted, before breaking out in laughter. “You’ve said enough! We’ll figure it out~” he said all sing-songy

Alaska was glad at least one person was on her side. California seemed to not have input, which was strange. He loved to argue.

Florida had Texas fully tied to heavy tree by the time California finally typed something.

“Are we meant to just let him be scrapped?” He asked.

Oklahoma swallowed. Alaska watched as he thought for a moment. Unwinding wasn’t a topic anyone here took lightly.

“No,” he said. “I guess, it’s probably a good thing we saved him.”

Alaska nodded, the weight of what California said affecting her as well.

She looked up, the sun was starting to set. “Florida, how about you set the fire?” She asked. Florida was more aloof than her and Oklahoma to the weight of what was just said.

“On it, ma’am!” He said he grabbed a pocket knife out of their supplies and started twisting it over the flint rocks they’d collected earlier for this very purpose.

The sparks of fire started to come up as California wheeled closer to Florida, throwing some small pieces of wood down as the fire started to burn. Alaska watches as the fire burns higher. She wasn’t a big fan of the heat but the others would freeze, their cold tolerance was much different from hers.

She stepped back a bit from the heat, motioning for Oklahoma to come over to her. She started skewering a rabbit onto it that Oklahoma had shot; Oklahoma had become the hunter of the group, his dad had taught him how to shoot when he was 7.

“Y’know, your gun skills could be really helpful if the Juvey-cops ever bother us,” Alaska said to him.

Oklahoma quickly looked away from Alaska as he put a piece of a turkey onto his skewer. “Yeah, I guess so.” He said, his tone still a bit dry. His head seemed to swift over to his brother quickly. “Hey, Cal, do you want some Turkey? I’ll pair it with those elderberries you like.”

California nodded slightly, and Oklahoma prepared another skewer. He put the berries on it as well.

Alaska noticed that he seemed to brush off her compliment, Oklahoma did that a lot. Maybe he didn’t like the violence it sort of fed into the “violent fugitive AWOL” stereotype, so perhaps that made sense.

Florida walked up to them, grabbing another part of the Turkey placed into the skewer. Eventually their food started to finish cooking and everyone scooted up to each other as they ate.

The typical dialogue that always happens while they eat. Alaska rarely talks during this time, she’s not very social.

“Hey, Alaska,” Florida said.

“Hm?” She asked, shifting her head slightly downwards to look down at Florida.

“How long is Texass gonna be out?”

“Texass, that’s good, I’m taking that,” Oklahoma said with a chuckle.

Florida grinned.

“He’ll probably be out another hour. The tranq darts are a little hard to figure out.” She tried to sound much more confident than she was in that estimation.

“Good to know, should we put someone on guard duty if he wakes up late?” Florida asked

Alaska looked around at everyone, Oklahoma seemed the most unimpressed with this idea out of everyone.

“Should we vote on it?” California typed out.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Alaska said. She wasn’t much of a sleeper anyway. “I’ll take it.”

There was a nod from everyone but California, and slowly they all finished their food. Their conversation came in and out of Alaska’s ears. She wasn’t all that involved, a lot of them were talking about mundane topics, nobody wanted to let their brain steep too low.

Florida and Oklahoma seemed to learn how to pause for California’s typing, something Alaska didn't know how to do quite yet.

Eventually the sun had completely set, and California had slid out of his chair and brought one of the cushions down to rest his head on. Everyone seemed to slowly drift off to sleep, other than Alaska.

Texas still hadn’t woken up, and Alaska wasn’t all that tired. She watched as the children she’d watched over for the past year rested. They all relaxed into the ground, shoulders slumped, eyes rested, and for a moment their horrors seemed to pass; almost as if they never existed. They weren’t AWOLs, they were all children.

As she watched them sleep, she knew they
deserved to live. She couldn’t process the idea of unwinding them or anyone for that manner.

She found herself relaxed in almost-silence. She could hear the coo of the animals around them; there were bugs chirping around her, she looked up to find a bat flying overhead. She could hear the rhythmic breathing of the others she had taken under her wing. Even if California and Florida snored quite a bit, she’d learnt how to ignore it. Over the past year she’d grown accustomed to people— well, she’d grown accustomed to her group— everything was nice. Everything was calm. She didn’t have a care in the world.

“I DON’T WANT A FACE TATTOO!!!!” She was very suddenly pulled from her very rare tranquil state by a blood-curdling scream. The others almost immediately shot up from their slumber, although it did take California more time to fully sit up than his able-bodied counterparts. She found herself turning around as quick as they could sit up to find a now very awake Texas thrashing against the strap which kept him clipped to the tree. He looked either frustrated or angry— she couldn’t entirely tell the difference— and was, most likely, incredibly out of it from the dart which had been stuck in his arm.

Chapter Text

Texas’ head was pounding in his skull, his memories were confabulated. He felt a small stab in his arm, that was all he really remembered at the moment. He could feel it pulsing slightly; he never had a very high pain tolerance. He found himself looking down at what was tying him to the tree, everything slowly seemed to come back to him after that moment.

Tithing party. I was scared. Walk. Foot in front of foot. Tithe. Girl sassing parents. Foot in front of foot. Girl on walk. Dart. Face tattoo. She’s going to give them to me.

“I DON’T WANT A FACE TATTOO!” was the first thing to come out of his lips as he started to recall what led to him tied to the tree. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he was thrashing.

Suddenly eyes were on him, more than just two. There was the girl from earlier, the one who had stolen him from his purpose, the luxury of a divided state, there were others, it was dark and she was closest, she was the only one he could make out.

“What the fuck?” A voice asked, it was a male voice that hadn’t quite yet dropped, it sounded vaguely familiar.

There was a giggle he couldn’t quite place coming from a few inches away from the first voice.

“That girl! She took me here to get face tattooed and become a heathen!” He screamed, trying to point at his captor but his hand wouldn’t go high enough.

The girl broke out in a laughing fit.

A robotic voice came, not quite from the giggle he heard earlier, but from right next to it. “That is absolutely not what has happened here,” it said.

“Those tattoos are also, only for women,” his captor finally said. “Can someone start a fire again since everyone here is awake?”

“On it!” A voice he’d never heard before said in the dark.

“I don’t believe you!!!” Texas shouted. She was probably lying to ease him into a false sense of security before he was forced to join her heathen cult.

There was more laughing followed by a scratch and screeching noise from nearby him. This was followed by a small flame, he could see the boy who started the fire now. It was a darker skinned boy he didn’t recognize. His hair was brown with a weird shaped hat on the top, which was a bright blue. He was grinning and his teeth were horribly shaped, like he desperately needed braces.

He stood up before Texas could fully take in his features, slowly paper was thrown into the fire by a person in a wheelchair. He wasn’t able to see the person's face, but they were close enough to the fire that their wheelchair was visible. The wheels were red, one of their hands rested on top of the wheel before grabbing more paper and throwing.

As they threw the paper the fire rose to the point he could see the face of the others there. He recognized the boy in a wheelchair. He had dark olive skin, a slight bit lighter than the boy who started the fire. glasses rimmed in circles. He was Oklahoma’s— the first kid unwound in his grades— brother… he couldn’t quite remember his name. Ca something? Carlos? Cameron? CALLUM.

“CALLUM?” He shouted.

Callum’s face shot over to him, his eyes wide and eyebrows lowered.

The weird hatted man started laughing, a laugh on par with the girl who’d kidnapped him earlier. It was deep from his soul, and loud. Oh so very loud.

“That ain’t his name,” a familiar voice said dryly. Oh, Texas would recognize that voice from anywhere. It was prepubescent, but most definitely a voice of a young boy. His face shifted over to the location of Oklahoma. His skin was similar in tone to California’s but a bit deeper in color, his straight black hair was incredibly long, almost close to the floor from where he was standing. He was a bit of a distance away from the others, closest to the girl.

This didn’t make any sense, wasn’t Oklahoma unwound? He was told Oklahoma was unwound a few days after his 13th birthday… how could he be here… and whole.

“How the heck are you here, Oklahomo?”

The weird hatted mans' laughter intensified at that. “OKLAHOMO, THAT'S GOOD.”

The should-be unwind rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Also, can you pronounce my brother's name right? It’s California.”

“I think you joined this woman’s heathen cult. It ain’t matter what his name is pronounced anyway, he can’t talk,” Texas said, attempting to cross his arms, but failing due to the strap keeping him firmly in place.

“Dude…” the robotic voice from earlier said. Somehow despite being monotone it was displaying a level of disappointment Texas only heard from his dad.
He looked around, that wasn’t the voice of anyone here.

“I can talk.”

Texas’ eyes finally shifted over to Callumfornia, who the voice was coming from. No human could possibly make that voice out of their throat… right. “You’re a robot?”

Callifornia was looking down at the screen attached to his chair, which Texas had always assumed was used to monitor his vitals like they used to do in the olden days before unwind parts became accessible.

“No, I just use this device to speak for me,” the machine said.

“Then you’re not talking,” Texas said with an eye roll.

Caifornla raised his eyebrows and just sucked in a breath. He seemed to motion something to the boy with the weird hat and the should-be unwind, and the weird hatted man let out a laugh.

“I ain’t wrong!” He shouted, he didn’t like the laugh.

The woman running this heathen cult looked at him, her eyes slightly squinted, not paying much attention to the others, who were partaking in some wordless communication ritual.

“What is talking to you, then?” She asked, her face falling more into that of disappointment. Her face reminded him of the face he received from his father and mother… They must be worried sick about him! I mean he disappeared with no explanation!

Texas felt sick to his stomach, both at the thought of his parents and seeing her disappointment, he didn’t know why he cared so much. He didn’t know her, at all, but just the look in her eyes was enough to make him squirm. Her dark eyes seemed to read his soul, every emotion he felt, she let out a slight chuckle as his face turned away.

“Cat got your tongue?” She asked, as he let out a slight huff. “For someone who ain’t—,” she seemed to pause in her words and let out a sigh. “—Damn kids. For someone who isn’t talking, you really are judgmental about it.”

Texas bit his bottom lip. He wasn’t going to retort with something snarky, he wasn’t gonna scream. He couldn’t give this heathen the time of day. He reflexively went to cross his arms, but he was prevented by the strap. “Ugh,” he groaned to himself trying to shimmy out.

“There’s no use in trying,” he heard the should-be unwind say. “I’ve seen that thing in use before, it’s strong enough to hold 300 pounds to a chair, and you ain’t that strong.”

Texas looked over at him, rolling his eyes. “How are y’all gonna keep me here forever, I mean, the juvey-cops gotta be searching for me by now, ain’t no way my parents aren’t worried sick.”

“I’m not too worried about them,” the heathen-girl said.

The should-be unwind looked down; away from Texas, his eyebrows slightly squished together, something he always did when he was concentrating… Not that Texas would know that, or anything.

“Are you hungry?” The should-be unwind asked, just before Texas could get out his first word towards the heathen.

Texas considered it, he was pretty hungry. He also didn’t want to admit that to anyone in this heathen cult, though. Maybe they'd untie his hands if he said he had to eat? I mean, it'd be pretty hard to eat all tied up.

“I could eat,” he said, trying to sound less desperate than he was.

The should-be unwind nodded, without even asking he went over to a pile of something— probably disgusting berries someone had picked. That's the problem with these AWOLs, they ain't got a single clue how to survive on their own.

The should-be unwind said something to the heathen girl Texas tuned out, and she went over to Callforna and the weird-hatted boy.

He brought a skewer in hand, the smell of Turkey overwhelmed Texas’ nose. Turkey was always his favorite, not that the should-be unwind would know that.

He looked up at the turkey, he'd gotten part of the breast, he could see a hole where the heart would be.

“Clear shot through the heart, nice,” he mumbled to himself, not something he wanted to say out loud but it seemingly just slipped through his lips.

“Thanks,” the should-be unwind said, sitting next to him putting it near his mouth.

“I’m complimenting whoever you stole this from, not you,” Texas said sternly, attempting not to take a bit of the food in front of him.

“I shot it myself,” he said, his tone ringing hollow.

“Yeah, right,” Texas said sarcastically, he knew the should-be unwind learned how to shoot, but no way he was this good. He’d watched the boy curl away from the idea of a gun a million times before, he was a pacifist, almost obnoxiously so, he’d never even seen the other kill a mosquito because “They’re animals too, their only crime is we don’t find them cute” , so Texas couldn’t quite picture him hunting, even if it was to survive.
How would he even get a gun anyways?
“You totally just have a gun here? Right? That’s what you’re using to shoot with?” He rolled his eyes.

The should-be unwind rolled his eyes. “I’ll show it to you when you finish eating.”

“How am I supposed to eat if I don’t have hands?”

“You do have hands, you just can’t use them. As much as you’d probably like to not have them right now.”

“Yeah, because then my hands could go somewhere great.”

There was no response with that, just a stern look at first. His lips pursed together, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to say to Texas.

Texas had totally bested him, he was completely speechless, his eyebrows curled in softly and his deep black eyes looked sad as he stared at Texas. He clearly wasn’t ready for whatever brainwashing this heathen cult had done to him to be broken.

“I’m not going to argue with you on this, Tex—,” before Texas could speak, “—as, please just eat. Your stomach is rumbling.”

Texas realized it was as he said that, and he reluctantly took a bite. Dang, it was good. , he kept a very conscious effort to keep his face from showing how much he enjoyed this. Especially since he was being practically spoon fed by the should-be unwind, the gleam of fire bouncing off his jet black hair making it look almost Auburn. His deep brown eyes focused on Texas, clearly trying to find any sign of weakness. That’s why Texas had to be careful around him. He hated him and he hated Texas.

Eventually Texas finished his turkey. He wanted more of it but he didn’t dare ask for seconds.

“There. I’m done,” he said, almost crossing his arms out of habit before remembering he couldn’t.

The other pulled the skewer away from him, then tossed it into the fire.

“Well, a deals a deal, I guess” he made a Gallic shrug. (which was probably something he’d learned in this heathen cult— not that Texas would know that— of course.) He pulled something out of the holster which must have been inside his pants and pulled out a gun. It was a pretty nice pistol, looked like it was a Smith & Welson MP40 but he couldn’t fully tell, it was semi-automatic and was mostly targeted for cops, those higher than the juvenile authority. It’d be a little hard to hunt with, but definitely not impossible.

Texas thought of a million snarky things to say to it, but honestly, seeing the other handle the gun in a way that felt so far from what’d he’d seen just a year back it must’ve shocked his brain out of his usual sense of justice. “Where’d you get it?” was his only question.

He let out a chuckle, “Well, I ain’t above stealing,” he said, putting the gun back, which Texas found himself rather upset about. “It was technically…” he trailed off. “—ah, nevermind, he ain’t important none,” he finished it with.

That was a reminder of why he hated the other. No matter how good of a shot he could be, he was still immoral. He probably belonged in this heathen cult, maybe he was the devil himself.

“So, you technically did steal the kills.”

Anything short of anger this conversation had before just had its guts ripped out. The should-be unwind’s gaze hardened, while it was never given the chance to grow soft, it turned into a glare, one that could see the inner workings of his soul.

“I wouldn’t say so.” His voice rang hollow. Every word felt almost disappointed in Texas shouldn’t care how he’s perceived as much as he did. His almost soft dark eyes had become daggers as the fire flickered in them, showing off specks of the deeper brown shades making it up. “I ain’t stealing my skills,” he said.

“But you wouldn’t be able to do them without that stolen gun.”

The should-be unwind readjusted himself, obviously uncomfortable with Texas’s words. “The gun ain’t mine, but my actions are my own,” he defended.

“Sure, but your actions are only,” Texas cut himself off, he wasn’t good enough at saying what he wanted too for this. His speech relied a lot on his hands to get his point across, so his first instinct was to motion his hands around to try to explain in that way.

He couldn’t. He was constrained. He was trapped. He couldn’t move in the way his body wished him to. He couldn’t soothe, he couldn’t leave. The strap seemed to get tighter and tighter with each passing moment of this realization. He was confined like a rabid animal on its way to decapitation.

He was stuck next to the crackling of this fire, a boy who should’ve been unwound, and a group of heathens.

Everything was surrounding him. The fire was too close and the voices were too loud. The strap was in closing him to the tree. The world was being warped around him, everything zooming in, he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried. He could feel every leaf and blade of grass he was stuck onto. He could feel the should-be unwinds eyes piercing him. Analyzing his every movement, to use for whatever this heathen cult is going to do to him. His own eyes darted around, attempting to find anything that would give him an once or denial at the fact that couldn’t leave.

The world blurred in front of him, his body moving involuntarily.

He found himself trying to slam against the constraint again, trying to break free, no matter how pointless it was. He needed to be released. He needed to run. He couldn’t take it here.

The other stared at his thrashing, his face dropping down and eyes widening. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
Instead of running away he dropped down onto his knees, trying to level with Texas. Like he wasn’t part of the problem.
He shouted something Texas couldn’t quite make out, the voice seemed to blend into the cracking fire and the gush of wind, rattling the leaves of the trees, even his own grunts.

For a minute everyone in this stupid freaking heathen cult crowded him for a minute, and then the next they were all gone. They all seemed to back away from him, the girl sliding the furthest away, keeping a watchful eye on him until their eyes met. This caused her to look away. Nobody seemed to meet his eyes. His chest began to feel looser, breathing more became easy. The strap was loosened. His thrashing still wasn’t enough to break him free, but he’d managed to free his hands from their prison. He found himself running his hands through the top of his hair, taking a handful of curls and squeezing. He didn’t pull, but it calmed him slightly, being able to move his hands.

His breath was wonky when he caught the next person coming into site range, the should-be unwind from behind the tree, his footsteps are oddly quiet.

The next thing he heard was counting to ten, a pair of hands he couldn’t bring himself to focus on motioning up with each number, counting with the voice.

By ten his breathing seemed to synchronize with the counting and the fingers. The strap felt looser, he wasn’t as trapped anymore, he wasn’t sure why he felt that way now.

“There,” is the first word he hears as he pulls himself back into reality slowly.

He didn’t understand why the strap was loosened, but why question a blessing?

He took a moment to take in the sights, and

Texas’s hand leaves his hair as he tries to leave the strap, but it is left barely tight enough that he can stand up.

Maybe he could convince them to loosen the strap enough for him to escape if he went along with their plans long enough! Maybe he could trick them into letting him run free all together!

“That’s.. better,” he said, trying to force a smile. “Thank you,” he said.

The should-be unwind nodded and everyone else seemed to conjugate into a group, but even within the group he could see between the boys that Caiiforna was the only linking element and the heathen woman was an isolate, but she didn’t seem insecure in that.

If he was going to manipulate one of them into thinking he’s trustworthy enough to set free, it couldn’t be her. She didn’t seem too interested in people. She would see through him, or at the very least show disinterest in his attempts at friendliness, even as the cult leader she was probably letting the others do the recruitment for her.

The weird hatted heathen seemed secure in just attaching himself at the hip to Commiefornia, he was still open with the others. He had no problem oversharing with them even if his voice lacked vulnerability. He wondered how it’d be with the weird hatted heathen and Californla alone. He obviously treated him with a preference. He couldn’t be manipulated either, not with Cailfornia shadowing his every move. He had that security.

When the should-be unwind was all in his face showing off his stolen kills and gun-skills with no care for his immorality he seemed to be sitting with the wheelchaired boy.

How could he even talk to someone whose voice was effectively a robot? He didn’t get it.

He observed the others as they got lost in their conversation, not quite able to hear every word and not enough to figure out what everyone was talking about but he was sure he’d heard his name mentioned a few times.

After a moment the should-be unwind walked over to him.
“Hey, Texas, how’re you doin’?” He asked sitting down.

Texas faked a grin once again, the kind that showed his teeth. “I’m doin’ better, now that I got that dumb strap loosened,” he said, trying to make it clear he hated being trapped while still being friendly to the should-be unwind.

“You wanna talk bout what happened? Looked like somethin’ caused a panic attack,” the other asked. Considering the fact he loosened the strap, he probably figured it out and was only asking to be nice.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m over it now.” A gust of wind flew by them and Texas found himself shivering.

“Hey, uh,” The should be unwind said, and then paused mid thought like he was going to say something and then changed his mind. “Lemme get you somethin’”

The should-be unwind left him alone for a minute and he told himself to drop the smile.

Soon he came back with a jacket that was slightly too big for Texas, which he knew couldn’t have been the should-be unwinds, he was shorter than Texas by at least 5 inches, probably more.

He wrapped the jacket around Texas’s shoulders. “You ain’t gonna be able to put it on like…” he motioned to the strap. “That, but you can use it as a blanket. I ain’t got a pillow to give you though.”

The word blanket made Texas realize how late it was and he compulsively found himself letting out a yawn, followed by a chuckle from the should-be unwind.

“You should get some sleep,” he said and Texas found himself agreeing. “I’d offer to sleep here with you, but I ain’t think you want that.”

Texas thought about offering to let him, for the plan, y’know, but he decided against it.
“Yeah, probably for the best, you snore.”

as the should-be unwind faded into the background of this heathen-camp ground and slowly his conscious faded away from the campground as well and deep into slumber.